


what we could be never was (and never will be)

by denoirselle



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:48:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25589332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/denoirselle/pseuds/denoirselle
Summary: When one has lost the other half of his soul, what becomes of him?
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 51





	what we could be never was (and never will be)

_and I can go anywhere I want_

_anywhere I want just not **home**_

Itʼs been 5 years but the sight of it still made Percy ache.

He had thought then that if he would stay as far away from it as possible for a long, long time then eventually all the wounds that came from it would heal.

That _he_ would heal.

But standing in front of it now after all those years made him realize that he was still as broken as the moment he had left it before.

They bought the tiny two-bedroom apartment when he and Annabeth had already acquired enough money from part time jobs to finally enroll in a college and settle down in New Rome.

That was 10 years ago.

The future seemed so bright that time. Well, as bright as a demigodʼs monster-induced, gods-influenced future may be. Back then, he had been so hopeful that maybe — just maybe — Annabeth and he could finally get a _normal_ life of their own, away from the catastrophic hold of the Olympian gods and monster attacks.

5 years into living in New Rome strengthened this hope. He and Annabeth were finally living a peaceful and ordinary life as college students and as a young couple. He was taking Education while of course, Annabeth took Architecture. For 5 years, they lived a life away from the chaos of being an Olympian demigod. They studied and graduated and went on cute little cafè dates and fed pigeons on a park every weekend and fell even more madly in love with each other than ever.

Everything was going _so_ well.

But Percy shouldʼve known better.

He shouldʼve known that when things were going exceptionally well in a demigodʼs life, then something must be coming to destroy it; like a joyous calm before a vicious storm.

He shouldʼve known that when Annabeth left that day, she might not be coming back.

But he didnʼt know. It hadnʼt even crossed his mind. He had been so used to living protected and undetected in New Rome that he had forgotten the horrors a demigod would meet in the world outside the barriers of his new home. To add to that, their frequent visits to his motherʼs house and Camp Half-Blood were free of the usual montrous attacks — if not for the occasional minor monsters that could be defeated rather easily.

And besides, he had other concerns in his mind that day.

He had planned for the proposal for weeks and prepared for it for days now, occasionally asking help from their friends who wholeheartedly joined his endeavor all the while keeping it a secret from Annabeth, which proved to be quite a challenge since she was too smart and sharp for her own good. But nonetheless, everything was going smoothly.

He had planned to propose to her in the Camp, by the lake in the pavilion where they once shared a blue brick cupcake to celebrate his birthday right after the Titan War where afterwards, they were thrown into the lake and shared that _best underwater kiss of all time_. Percy thought it was ideal to propose to her there — in the place where it all began.

They were both suppose to go to the Camp together, but an emergency in the firm Annabethʼs working for in New Rome prompted her to leave first to fetch some supplies they needed. She promised she would follow him to the Camp as soon as she could, and Percy had just smiled and planted a kiss on her forehead. And then he let her go.

In her haste and in Percyʼs anxiousness about the proposal, none of them had noticed Annabeth had left the weapon she was supposed to carry with her whenever they left New Rome.

He shouldʼve noticed. And he shouldnʼt have let her go.

But he did.

They agreed to meet at the Camp by 7 pm. Everything was set. The candle light, the brick-blue cupcake they shared once upon a time (he made Tyson make it, same as then), the soft draperies and cloths the whole Camp has helped him prepare all over the pavilion, and of course — the ring. He had dove in the deepest darkest parts of the ocean to retrieve that rare pearl from his fatherʼs underwater palace, then Leo did him a favor and fashioned the pearl atop a silver ring. Everything was so _wonderfully_ set that it ached him to reminisce about all of it now.

It was 7:30 but Annabeth wasnʼt anywhere to be seen.

“Sheʼll come, Percy,” Piper had assured. She was still grieving Jasonʼs death and sorely busy with university, but she had promised to be there and help Percy get the happy ending that she never had. He was greatful for it.

But that happy ending never came for him too.

8:30 and Percy was on edge.

“Is there any way we can contact her?” he asked, utterly worried now. Since they were demigods and phones were dangerous for them to use, it was quite difficult for them to contact each other — well, save for Iris Messages and letters sent by crows or eagles and the likes.

“Maybe sheʼs not yet done with her architect stuff?” Rachel had suggested, but the hesitant way she said it gave way to the fear laced in her voice.

Percy breathed, voice shaky. “Can we — can we Iris Message her? I canʼt wait any longer anymore.”

And so, they did.

But what they had seen on Annabethʼs side of the message drained Percy of all the blood on his face.

Piper gasped, hands to her mouth.

It was Annabeth. Bloodied and bruised. She was sporting a stab wound on her right thigh and there were gashes all over her face and arms. Red liquid dripped from her wounds as she fought the monster looming over her with all the strength she had left. She was fighting it weaponless.

“Percy, wait!” Hazel had called after him.

But Percy wasnʼt listening. He went straight for Hazelʼs horse, Arion, feeding on a sack of apples near the lake. It was a challenge to summon the horse from wherever it came from much less reign on it. But Percy was so determined; his blood was boiling, face cold, and there was fear mixed with the undeniable murder in his eyes. He commanded Arion with a will of authority so intense that the horse obliged to him without question.

But Percy came too late.

Annabeth was slumped on the ground, red all over the grass around her, and a fresh deep laceration was visible near her stomach. The monster hovered above her, menacing with its teeth gnashing, claws out as if to deliver the final blow.

All Percy could see was blood.

He charged at the monster, Riptide in hand. He slashed and stabbed and fought wildly at the beast, a murderous glint in his eyes. When his sword had been slapped out of his hands, he became more wrathful. He didnʼt even bother to retrieve it. Instead, he felt his hands move in the air, feeling all of the water particles present around him. _All_ of the liquid his power could touch — water or _not_.

The monster shuddered, its face rid of all color. It twitched as droplets of blood, sweat, _acid_ dripped from all around his body. Until Percy had _ripped_ all of him all at once from summoning each drop of liquid moving inside his hideous, humongous entirety.

He did all this with an eerily calm look on his face, his once bright sea green eyes dark with violent and merciless intent.

Piper, Hazel, and the others had come right on time to see this frightening act, but they had done nothing but stare. They were too horrified by the ruthless and vicious Percy they had seen with the absolute annihilation in his eyes that none of them had dared to move.

He had _tore_ the monster apart with his bare hands and with the absolute prime of his powers, unforgiving and vicious.

But when he had woken up from his brutal daze and saw Annabeth lying limp against the grass, his eyes lost its dark cloud.

“No,” he had whispered. “ _No_.”

He crouched beside her, caressing her wounded face with his hands. “Annabeth. _Please_.”

She was already breathing heavily, and it took all of the strength left in her to open her eyes and give him a small feeble smile.

“Percy,” she had said. Barely a whisper. “I — Iʼm s — sorry —”

“Shhh,” he had cooed. “Save your strength —”

Annabeth coughed, blood oozing from her mouth.

“ _Please_ , Wise Girl,” he begged, desperation weaved in his voice. “Y — youʼll make it. _Weʼll_ make it. Annabeth —”

She had shook her head, as if it had already dawned on her that _no_. There was no way she could survive this anymore. There was no way she could make it. “Percy, I—”

“No, Annabeth, _please_ ,” he choked, tears streaming down his face. “Please Annabeth, donʼt say that. Youʼll make it —”

“No,” Annabeth breathed, her breaths uneven. “Forgive me, Percy.” She lifted a shaking hand to touch Percyʼs face. He grasped it before she could reach him, and pressed it to his cheek himself. Annabeth could feel his tears touch her bloodied hand.

“Please,” he sobbed, gripping Annabethʼs hand as if his life depended on it, and it _does_. “Stay with me, Annabeth. _Please_.”

There was grief in the weak glint in her once stormy eyes. Grief, regret, _fear_. “I love you, Perseus Jackson,” she had said, with evident difficulty — a faint whisper. “And I — I will _always_ wait for you.”

She mustered one last tight lipped smile, caressing his cheek with a thumb. And _then_ , the light in her gray eyes — once stormy and intense and passionate and so _full_ of life — had gone. Her hand slacked in Percyʼs hold but he held on to it; as if holding on would bring her back. He pressed a hard kiss on her palm and sobbed. Sobbed so hard he felt his heart ache, as if it had just been drained of all its blood, as if it had lost its purpose to beat, to go on — _and it just did_. It did the moment Annabeth had lost her pulse. And then he held her close in his arms, hugged her with all his might one last time and he screamed and cried and vowed to all the gods that he was _done_. He was done with all their bullshit and all this demigod fuckery. _He was done_.

He screamed and wailed as he held the love of his life in his quivering arms, now lifeless and limp. He embraced her and held her close — closer than he ever did — and he regrets that he had only held her this close _now_. Now that sheʼs _gone_.

He couldnʼt care less about Piper and Hazel and Frank and Leo and Chiron and the others watching them from a distance, faces equally tear stained and horrified and devastated. He couldnʼt care less about the raging hurricane brewing or the sound of the waves near the ocean nearby bashing against each other so harshly that it had started to shape larger waves that threatened to invade the lands around them and cause a tsunami. He couldnʼt care about how the liquid particles in the air vibrated or how the blood from the animals and even the _humans_ around him started to palpitate at an inhumane speed. He couldnʼt care less about his friendsʼ screams and pleads of “ _Percy, stop_!”, “ _Percy, please_!”. He couldnʼt care less about about the other campers struggling to get to him, to stophim, their blood threatening to spill the same way he did to the monster.

He couldnʼt care less at all.

All he could care about is the Annabeth in his arms and the newfound hollowness in his heart.

It has been 5 years and the hollowness just intensified and caved in deeper into his soul — rendering him lifeless despite the pulse on his wrist.

The supposed wedding had turned into a funeral. A funeral the same way he had once years ago when it was Annabeth who had thought that he had died. Except he didnʼt. A part of him desperately wished that it would happen the same way as it did back then. With Annabeth — very much alive with her golden hair and fierce eyes — walking into the Camp and rolling her eyes at all the dumbassery that was happening and she would kiss him and wrap her arms around him and tease him, “ _Did you really think I would leave you like that, Seaweed Brain? I still have a mission on not making things easy for you, you know_.” And he would kiss her again and never let her go and then marry the _hell_ out of her.

But that never happened.

The funeral was solemn. _Too_ solemn for Percyʼs liking. Maybe that was because of the bloodbending and the hurricane-summoning and the tsunami-triggering performance he had done that almost killed them all, making the campers — and even his other friends — avoid him. To be honest, he really couldnʼt care less anymore. It was like he was devoid of all emotions and his heart had turned to stone. They had lost too much already. From the Titan War to the Giant War, Jason, and now _Annabeth_. When will all this losing end?

He had thought about pulling an Orpheus and storming into the underworld to demand Annabeth back. Or raging into Olympus to demand the gods to bring her back to life. Couldnʼt he at least get that much of a prize? A consolation from the gods? After everything that he had done for them? After every mission and every favor and every little fucking shit that he had done for their goddamn immortal asses. Couldnʼt they at least give this to him?

But despite those powerful thoughts of his, he didnʼt do it. He didnʼt storm into the Underworld and made a bet with Hades or demanded the gods to resurrect Annabeth.

As much as he had wanted to get Annabeth back and be with her and marry her and build a life with her, he wasnʼt that selfish. In Elysium, he knew that Annabeth was safe. There he knew that Annabeth would finally be at peace without any damn god or monster or prophecy to worry about. In there she would be happy. She would meet Jason and Silena and Charlie and maybe even Bob and Damasen. She would be better off there.

And that broke Percy even more, knowing that being with him in this godsforsaken world would be of more harm to her than good.

After the funeral, nobody else had heard from him save from his family. He isolated himself in the cabin in Montauk, where he had frequent visits from his mother and his little sister. If it werenʼt for those visits, he wouldʼve lost himself altogether and he might even be somewhere in the Underworld by now. He couldnʼt go back to the apartment in New Rome, it reminded him of Annabeth too much. The storm gray walls and the golden sunlight flitting through the blinds, the mess all around the living room with all of her drawing tools and architectural blueprints, her lemon scent imprinted on their bed, in the pillows and in the blankets. The house was too much of her than heʼd like to bask in. He couldnʼt be in Camp Half-Blood either. The little stunt he did rendered the campers to fear him and avoid him altogether, though his friends had exerted the effort to reach out to him. But he just couldnʼt face them anymore. And besides, Camp Half-Blood was where everything started between him and Annabeth: where they first met when they were 12, where they became friends and grew close and fell in love. The Camp screamed _her_ too.

But he couldnʼt run any longer.

He had to face all that he kept avoiding, eventually.

And true to that, here he was.

The apartment looked older and dustier than he had last seen it, with leaves scattered around the front porch and weeds growing on the grass. Naturally, it would look like that. It was unoccupied for 5 years.

Percy took a deep breath and walked towards the door. He fumbled for the keys in his pocket and fit it into the keyhole in the doorknob. He twisted it and hesitated.

Despite it all, a part of him was still _hoping_. Hoping and wishing that Annabeth was inside. That once he opens the door he would see her sitting on the sofa with a drawing pad on her lap, sketching some Victorian architectural building or whatever, a coffee cup on the table in front of her. And once she sees him, her eyes will light up and sheʼd run to him and kiss him and hold him in her arms and whisper, “ _I missed you, Percy_.”

But Percy knows she wouldnʼt.

He pushed the door open and is welcomed by the same sight he had left it years ago. Annabethʼs work mess was still indeed scattered on the living room. A mug was sitting idly on the wooden table. Percy breathed in and suddenly, he was smelling Annabeth. Her signature lemon scent. The gray walls, now lighter and duller, reminded him of the glint in Annabethʼs eyes the moment her life was taken from her. And through the windows, the golden sunlight shined into the abandoned house — as gold as Annabethʼs blond hair.

It awakened the intense ache within Percy. But then again, the ache had never really gone. It was still there. It will _always_ be there. He thinks that it would never disappear at all and it would be with him until the moment he joins Annabeth.

But despite that, he _misses_ this.

Stepping foot in this house after all these years had made him realize just how much he desperately and hopelessly longs for Annabeth. Her smile, her eyes, her touch, the way her eyes roll when he does something stupid, the way she calls him “Seaweed Brain” and ruffles his hair and kisses him. He missed her. He missed her too much, it broke him all over again.

When he entered their bedroom, it took all of him not to sob.

It was — like everything else in the house — the same.

The way the sheets were crumpled against each other and the stack of books on the desk and the beige curtains and the laundry basket filled with both their clothes and the frames on the wall of both of them, of their friends, and of their families.

Only now, Percy had noticed something else inside the room — something else that wasnʼt there the last time he was here.

On the side table beside the bed was a little black box. It was no larger than a box containing a ring with an unfinished knotted ribbon wrapped around its black surface — blue the way Percy loves the color.

He sat on the bed and gingerly held the box in his hands. He slowly took off the rough-hewn ribbon around it. Then he took off the lid.

What he found inside broke his heart even more.

It was a black and white picture — _a_ _n ultrasound_. 

Percy could feel his throat drying up, his breath shaky, a choked whimper threatening to escape his lips.

A future was waiting for them. A lifetime was waiting for them. A _child_ was waiting for them.

All that was taken from them. All that was taken from him in one single blow.

And then he was screaming. He was screaming and sobbing and clutching the ultrasound photo to his chest — a painful reminder of what he could have, what his life couldʼve been, and what it could never be anymore. His chest ached so intensely and his heart felt as if it was being ripped to shreds over and over and over again and the pain wouldnʼt _ever_ stop. It couldnʼt _possibly_ stop anymore. It would come every minute and every second of the time he has remaining in this world and it would claw at him day and night: the longing and the desperation and the anguish.

He stared at the photo in his hands, eyes brimming with tears. If that day hadnʼt come, if he hadnʼt let her go on her own, would Annabeth and he have a little rug rat today? A 5 year old daughter — or son — thatʼd probably drive them both crazy by now. He touched its little figure on the photo. Not only did he lose Annabeth that day, they both had lost their child too — but he hadnʼt known ‘till now. Was Annabeth planning to tell him that she was pregnant the same day he was suppose to propose? Was that day suppose to be the happiest day in their entire lives if she hadnʼt died?

He clenched his fist. He clenched it so hard he could feel the nails digging into his palms, making it bleed.

He and Annabeth may not get their happy ending in this lifetime, but he swears upon himself that in the next one theyʼd live through, he would find her again and love her again and be with her again. Heʼd do it all over and over and over again in as many times as he has to. _All_ of it — as long as its with her. Theyʼd to it all ‘till perhaps — if given the chance — they get to the Isle of the Blest.

He stared upon the photo in his hand once again and after all these years, he allowed himself to smile. _Weʼll meet each other one day, little one. Weʼll be together. You, me, and your mother. Weʼll live the life we deserve someday_.

Percy drew in a deep breath. He inhaled the lemony scent of the room and took in the gray walls and the golden sunlight and everything else that screamed _Annabeth. Annabeth. Annabeth_.

He missed her so much. Longed for her _so_ bad. But he wouldnʼt run from all this anymore — from _her_. If she had known it, it wouldʼve broke her heart and that was the last thing Percy wanted to do.

A new hope flowed through him. After 5 long agonizing years, a newfound hope has brewed inside him.

A hope that someday — perhaps in the next life — a better life and a brighter future and a happy ending was waiting for them. That hope then turned into a conviction then a mission then an utterly _solid_ certainty. They _will_ get that life. By hell or high water, they would.

Even if it meant Percy had to demand it by force from the gods themselves.

__

**Author's Note:**

> hope you guys enjoyed (as much as you can enjoy angst, anyway) this rather mediocre work lol, iʼm still working more on my writing skills but I hope you guys liked it! iʼd also like to apologise for any typos and such, iʼll edit it soon if I have the time. <3 this is my first percabeth fic too, btw and kudos and comments are highly appreciated!


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